


A Day in the Life of Thomas Hunt

by KairouWatoshimi



Category: Hollywood U: Rising Stars
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4434680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KairouWatoshimi/pseuds/KairouWatoshimi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starring Jane Doe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day in the Life of Thomas Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> **Oh, look. More experimental fics. Also, you will not believe the amount of mistakes I found in my last fic so I actually had my friend reread this fic before publishing it. ~~I blame any remaining typos on her.~~**
> 
> **I would like to say that I was completely drunk while writing this fic, but that’s a lie. I honestly don’t know what I was thinking.**

Jane wakes up in a room not her own. Her skin feels unnaturally tight around her body and there is a sort of pressure around the outside of her head as if it is being crushed. She sits up and sniffs, wrinkling her nose as she tries to remember what happened the night before and why she’s waking up in an unfamiliar room. Jane is sure she spent most of the night going over the final touches to Hunt’s assignment and had immediately fallen asleep upon its completion.

Blinking rapidly to clear the foggy haze surrounding her still-sleepy mind, Jane pushes herself up to stand only to immediately stumble on her suddenly too-long legs and falls gracelessly onto the floor. “Fuck,” she grumbles, readying herself to try again except the voice that comes out is not her own.

She pauses and blinks up at the ceiling in confusion because she is sure that the voice had come out of _her_ vocal cords. Perhaps she is sick? Sighing and ignoring her too-tight skin and too-long limbs, she scrambles back onto her feet and stumbles her way to the nearest door. Jane throws it open with enthusiasm she doesn’t feel and finds herself staring into a crisp, clean bathroom that looks like it was built for a hotel of sorts. Knowing it is probably was better to clean herself up before trying to figure out where she is Jane sighs again and makes her way into the bathroom.

When she looks up into the mirror, it’s Thomas Hunt who stares back at her. Feeling oddly calm despite the situation, Jane tilts her—or rather _Hunt’s_ —head, squinting at Hunt’s image in the mirror and wonders what’s going on. She runs Hunt’s larger and slightly callused fingers through his wild, morning bed hair and sighs. Again.

 _What a way to begin the day,_ Jane thinks. _This better be a dream._

* * *

 

 

It isn’t a dream and Jane isn’t sure how she feels about that.

On one hand, she’s a lot calmer than anyone really should be in this kind of situation and in the back of her mind, Jane wonders if it’s only because the shock hasn’t set in yet. On the other hand, think of all the possibilities she can do while in Hunt’s body! Unfortunately, logic tells her that since she’s currently occupying her body, he must be occupying _hers_ and the last thing she wants is him getting back at her while having full control of her body.

* * *

 

On the fifth try, Jane gives in and mutters curses underneath her breath before tossing Hunt’s phone away in annoyance. Knowing that she’ll have to masquerade around as Hunt, should she go outside, Jane _really_ doesn’t want to go to campus. But seeing that the bastard isn’t answering any of her calls, Jane doesn’t think she has much of a choice. Since she first began attending the university, Jane has never seen Hunt miss a single day of work and isn’t sure how happy he’ll be if she ruins his perfect track record.

She stares at the mirror for another minute before sighing, mentally preparing herself for the inevitable.

Jane spends half an hour looking through all of Hunt’s hair care products before rolling her eyes and picks up a nearby comb. She brushes through his silky, thin locks, her free hand reaching up to fluff away any necessary areas all while ignoring the subtle but growing pressure on her bladder.

When Jane finally finishes fixing up Hunt’s hair to her liking, she looks back at the mirror and suddenly understands why he always keeps his hair brushed to the side.

 _Baby-faced,_ she thinks, touching Hunt’s image on the surface of the reflective glass with the tips of her fingers. She stays like that for a good five minutes, taking her time to observe every little detail of Hunt’s physical features. Just by styling his hair differently, Hunt already looks at least ten years younger; she wonders what else she can do to fix up his appearance. In the back of her mind, Jane hopes Hunt is taking as much time and energy pampering her body as she’s currently doing with his.

Finished with her hair, Jane makes her way back out of the bathroom and peeks through various doorways until she comes across his walk-in closet. “Oh my _god,”_ she breathes, stepping in. The closet itself is probably bigger than her entire dorm room and Jane suddenly wants nothing more than to take the entire day—no, _week_ —off and play dress-up.

The choices, the choices.

She runs her fingers along the suit Hunt had set out on a nearby counter the night before and picks it up. Jane pauses and stares down at it for a moment before wrinkling her nose in disgust. She tosses the suit back onto the counter and spins around, observant eyes scanning the lines of clothing he had hung up, mentally putting together outfits and wonders which one she should go with.

He probably wouldn’t be too happy about that either, Jane knew, but Hunt didn’t really have much of a choice seeing that she is currently in charge of his body. _Besides,_ she thinks, his usual grandpa suit wouldn’t match his current image and hairstyle, anyway.

* * *

 

Jane isn’t really sure what to do when she finally arrives on campus and walks around with confidence she does not feel. It’s weird walking in Hunt’s body, wearing his clothes but sometimes, Jane will forget that she isn’t herself—not really. She’s mindful of the stares she’s getting so she moves with the utmost care. Once or twice, Jane catches herself and has to readjust her position to stop her— _Hunt’s—_ hips from swaying with each step she takes. If word gets around campus, Hunt is sure to kill her.

Jane doesn’t think that Hunt is the type of person to spend his time loitering around the professor’s lounge and hopes no one will miss his presence if he is. She decides to lurk outside her dorm building, hoping to catch sight of her body and prays she isn’t making Hunt look like some kind of creepy stalker.

“You look really nice today, professor!” a passing student chirps at her.

She opens her mouth to chirp back her response but manages to catch herself in time. How does Hunt handle compliments anyway? Should she bark out an insult? Or just scowl in annoyance?

“Go away,” Jane says and watches as the student’s shoulders drop in disappointment. She scowls for good measure and waits until the student turns around to walk away from her before breathing a sigh of relief. _Well then,_ she thinks. _So far, so good._

Another ten minutes passes before Jane finally catches sight of familiar blond hair and has to squash down the ridiculous urge to run up and hug her friend out of sheer relief; if anyone knows where she—her body—is, it’s Addison. Just as she is about to call out her name, Addison and her friend take a seat in a nearby bench, turning around to face Jane’s direction as they did so.

She freezes.

“Are you feeling all right, Jane?” Addison asks worriedly, her voice carried by the wind.

“I’m _fine,”_ Hunt mutters in her voice, words clipped and tone flat. He tenses as Addison rests a supporting hand on his bare shoulder.

 _That’s me?_ Jane wonders dizzily. She barely recognizes herself.

Mentally shaking herself from her thoughts, Jane clears her throat and catches both their attention. “Jane,” she says. It’s an odd sort of feeling saying her own name with Hunt’s tongue and Jane doesn’t think she’ll ever get use to it. “I’d like to have a word with you,” she continues, trying to imitate the tone he uses whenever she does something wrong. And for good measure, she also adds, _“Now.”_

* * *

 

“What did you do to my hair?” Jane demands in horror the second they step into an isolated corner behind the building.

Hunt scoffs at her but since he’s using _her_ face, Jane isn’t really sure what to think of it. “I couldn’t get it to lie flat,” he grumbles, glaring. And as if to emphasis, his point, he reaches up to brush away a loose strand of hair only to get his borrowed fingers caught in it.

“What do you think is going on?” Jane asks him, watching as he struggles to untangle his fingers. It’s weird seeing her own face—small and plain without her usual make-up—wearing Hunt’s scowl. And it isn’t just the facial expression either, Jane can see the slight difference in her body posture which looks more authoritative than she’s used to.

“A nightmare,” he snaps in response. “A _complete_ nightmare.” He yanks his hand again and Jane hopes he doesn’t end up yanking out all her hair by the time the day’s out.

Jane stares for a moment longer before sighing in annoyance. “Oh, for crying out loud!” she huffs, clasping him on his shoulder. Hunt’s borrowed skin feels soft and delicate under her touch and almost snatches her hand back in shock. Forcing herself to keep calm, she spins Hunt around and pulls him towards her. Jane runs her fingers through his hair, easing away the tangles as best as she can. Having seen his collection of hair-care products, Jane has absolutely no idea how he managed to make her hair seem like it was something a cat had coughed up. Improvising quickly, Jane twists her hair up into a tight bun and sticks a pen into it to hold it in place. “There,” she announces proudly. “All done.”

Hunt turns back around and glares at her, half-wincing at the unfamiliar _pulling_ sensation of his scalp. “Don’t do that to my face,” he tells her, reaching up to flick her in the face.

“What?” she asks, scowling. “I can’t even smile now?” It’s unfortunate that despite it being his body, she’s still the one feeling the pain. Jane wonders what day it is and hopes she gets her period soon; her cramps can make _anyone_ kneel over, even someone with as much self-respect and control as Hunt.

“Not with my face,” he tells her and frowns as he fully takes in her appearance. “And what in the world did you do to _my_ hair?”

She raises an eyebrow into a perfect arch and looks down her nose at him. “You have exactly twelve different bottles of hair-care products,” she tells him as if he didn’t already know. “I didn’t know where to start.”

Hunt sighs but doesn’t say anything even though Jane is sure he’s holding back an insult. “We’ll meet at my condo after your classes,” he finally says. “Thankfully, I only have two today.”

“My classes?” Jane repeats and squeaks only to choke as her breath gets caught in her throat. _“My classes?_ Excuse me but I’m in _your_ body right now! I can’t go around lecturing your classes!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Hunt snaps. “Fortunately for you, it’s a Friday so all you have to do is let students present their project and collect them. It shouldn’t be too hard, even you can’t screw this up.”

Jane gapes at him. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?” she demands.

Before he can answer, Addison’s voice cuts in, interrupting them. “Jane?” she calls out, sounding worried.

Having spent a little over twenty years responding to her own name, Jane forgets herself and Hunt gives her a quick shove to shut her up when he sees her about to answer. “What is it, Addison?” he asks instead, struggling to keep his voice natural.

“Addi!” Jane hisses. “Call her Addi or she’s going to think I’m angry at her or something.”

Hunt’s eye twitches in annoyance even as he turns around to face Addison with what is hopefully a natural smile on his face. The blonde’s eyes darted from Hunt to herself. “Um,” she begins hesitantly. “Well, we have class in half an hour, I was wondering if you wanted to grab some coffee with me before we go.”

Hunt flattens her mouth and Jane has to poke him to get him to talk. “Fine!” he finally snaps, throwing a glare over his shoulder at her. “Don’t be late,” he whispers to her. “I’m never late for class. And don’t do anything stupid, either.”

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Whatever,” she grumbles.

“Just head straight to the lecture hall,” Hunt tells her.

Jane wrinkles her nose in annoyance. “I have to go pee first,” she informs him and watches as his face drops in horror with a small amount of glee. She knows she probably shouldn’t feel this way—and trust her, she really isn’t looking forward to going to the bathroom—but the expression on Hunt’s face made it all worth it.

“Jane?” Addison calls out again.

She watches at Hunt shoots her one last glare before turning to make his way towards Addison. He wobbles slightly in the four-inch heels and Jane sighs, praying that Hunt has what it takes to make it through the day.

* * *

 

True to Hunt’s words, the morning class is fairly straight forward; Jane doesn’t actually do all that much. All she does is sit back and dissect everyone’s project, nitpick at every detail and in the same sentence, compliments herself—or rather, Hunt. She answers her fellow classmates’ questions by spouting out some bullshit in a condescending tone before sending them on their way.

Everyone ate it up.

And Jane can’t help but wink at Hunt’s scowling face as Addison pulls him out the door after class and thinks that she can so easily get use to this.

* * *

 

Jane decides to take a short break before Hunt’s next and last class, making herself coffee from his very expensive coffee machine. His office is like an extension of his home, crisp and clean without a hint of personal decoration and Jane is almost afraid of touching anything. But she quickly shakes off the feeling and gets to work, humming as she does so.

Just as she finishes adding the perfect amount of cream and sugar into her mug of freshly-brewed coffee, someone knocks on the door. Jane clears her throat. “Enter,” she calls out, wondering if Hunt has office hours she isn’t familiar with.

The door opens and reveals a very familiar-looking professor that Jane can’t say she’s fond of. _Professor Singh,_ she remembers from her hearing. Then: _Judgmental cow._

“Thomas,” Singh greets and Jane feels herself panic. For a second, there is a sort of wide-eyed surprise on Singh’s face but she quickly smooths out her expression and smiles; Jane is immediately reminded of a woman in love.

_Penny? Patty?_

“The students are all saying that you’re looking even more handsome than usual now that you ‘let down your hair,’” she continues and closes the door behind her before making her way into the office not noticing Jane’s mounting horror. “But I had to see it myself to believe it.” There is something about Singh’s low and husky tone that immediately makes the warning bells in the back of Jane’s mind to go off but she chooses to ignore that in favor of going down a mental list of possible first names.

_Patsie? Is it Patsie?_

“Yes,” Jane responds distractedly. _Damn it,_ she thinks. _I know it starts with a ‘P’. Patricia? Penelope?_

“Thomas,” Singh says again and takes a slow step towards her.

Jane blinks and stares with wide eyes, suddenly realizing the implications behind Singh’s sudden appearance, her words, her tone, _the looks she’s giving her!_ “Um,” she coughs out stupidly and thinks, _Holy shit! Hunt’s going out with Singh?_

Singh takes another step towards her and Jane almost visibly shakes where she stands. “What’s wrong?” she asks and Jane can smell the sweet, flowering scent of Singh’s perfume. “You seem slightly... distracted.” There is a worried sort of warm, _loving_ light in Singh’s eyes and Jane doesn’t know what to do.

She doesn’t respond.

“Thomas,” she says again, her voice soft and yearning. “When’s the last time you worn your hair like this?” She reaches up towards her and Jane reflexively takes a step backwards, the back of her knees bumping against the edge of Hunt’s desk. She almost winches as Singh’s expression falls.

“I don’t... I don’t feel well right now,” Jane tells her.

“Of course,” Singh says, her tone flat and expression cold. “I forgot myself.”

 _Shit,_ Jane thinks. _You’re going to have to buy her flowers, man. And maybe chocolate too. And roses; everyone loves roses._ Hunt’s good with words; Jane’s sure he’s a charismatic man when he wants to be; he’ll be able to win Singh back in no time.

“First the cologne, now the hair,” Singh says, looking back up into her eyes. “You’re really serious about her, aren’t you?”

She blinks. _What? There’s_ another _woman?_ That player! And to think he had even flirted with her at the masquerade. Connection, indeed. Jane would very much like to connect his face with her fist.

Without waiting for an answer, Singh shakes her head and sighs. “Never mind, I don’t want to know,” she tells Jane before swallowing hard. It’s a little bit heart-breaking to watch and Jane is surprised to find that she actually feels sorry for her. “I just—just... good luck with her, all right?”

She nods, not trusting herself to speak; especially not with the thousands of questions she has hanging off the tip of her tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> **This story takes place some time after the masquerade date, dates after that never happened and it also assumes that the MC is not aware of Hunt and Priya’s past relationship (if you did not choose the special diamond-required dialogues).**


End file.
